


The Canary and the Mockingbird

by WondererTerra44



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney Inspired, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), EVERYONE'S HUMAN, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending?, Inspired by Disney, Keith sings, M/M, Mutual Pining, No One's Actually a Disney Character, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Possible sequel, Will add tags as I go, lance plays guitar, no promises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondererTerra44/pseuds/WondererTerra44
Summary: So you know how in Disney movies the characters randomly burst into song? And the musicplays as they sing their hearts out? Well, that music has got to come from somewhere, right? Que theMusicians. They are the hidden band, the orchestra in the pit, the extras in the background, if youwill.See, whenever a Character feels the need to express their feelings, it’s usually through song. And well, what is a songwithout music? When a Character feels that need, a Musician near them will feel an impulse to find that Character and play their background music for them. That impulse is impossible toignore, especially if the Character’s feelings are strong, which can quickly make things awkward ifsaid Musician was in the middle of sexy-time. Or a bath. Whatever tickles your fancy. It sucks,honestly, not being in control of what you do based on a strangers emotions.--------Basically, Keith is a Disney Character and Lance is a Musician.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks bgrievous64 for beta-ing!

 So you know how in Disney movies the characters randomly burst into song? And the music plays as they sing their hearts out? Well, that music has got to come from somewhere, right? Que the Musicians. They are the hidden band, the orchestra in the pit, the extras in the background, if you will. That’s exactly what they are, what I am. In. The. Background.

 Eh, it’s not too bad. If you don’t mind not being noticed. The name’s Lance, by the way, and no, I’m not bitter about not being seen, no matter how much the other Musicians tell you different. You see, I was born into this role, even if it really isn’t much of one. I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. I will always be in the background or on the sideline.

 I would have rather been born a Character. Man, do those guys have a good life. Always front and center with a Musician always there to back them up. Must be kinda nice having that kind of support all the time, even though said support doesn’t have much of a choice. See, whenever a Character feels the need to express their feelings, it’s usually through song. And well, what is a song without music? When a Character feels that need, a Musician near them will feel an impulse inside them to find that Character and play their background music for them. That impulse is impossible to ignore, especially if the Character’s feelings are strong, which can quickly make things awkward if said Musician was in the middle of sexy-time. Or a bath. Whatever tickles your fancy. It sucks, honestly, not being in control of what you do based on a strangers emotions.

 Whatever. Couldn’t really do much about it if I tried. Right?

* * *

 

 It’s not all bad, Lance was at least born with this natural talent for the guitar. It’s a versatile instrument. He can join in a group, go solo, and play any type as long as it has strings. Yeah, it could be worse. Except it already is.

 Lance is currently stuck with three other acoustic guitarists at the moment because some dip-wad of a Character decided he wanted to serenade his sweetheart with a full string group.

 For two. Hours.

  _Okay, we get it, you love her, but do you really need to sing a whole album’s worth of songs to tell her?_  

Lance holds back a groan as the warbly voice of the man repeated the chorus of the love song. Again. The hoarseness of the Character’s voice shows how long he’s been at it. That, and he’s probably a chronic smoker. Looks like one, too.

  _Man, I hope for her sake that love is deaf, too._

 Rolling his shoulder to work a kink in his back, Lance leans over to another guitarist.

 “Any idea when this guy will give it up already?”

 She’s an older woman, maybe late fifties. Most people would think of Musicians as being young and spry, but in this world it’s not uncommon to see an older Musician out and about. Some elderly, too, if they can walk. Just goes to show they have to deal with this kind of stuff for their whole lives.

 “Don’t worry,” she says, a bored look on her aged face. “He’s about done. He usually goes on like this for just a couple of hours. Any longer and it’ll be a new record.”

“You’ve dealt with this guy before?”

 “Sadly,” she affirms. “I live close to here so I always feel the pull whenever he’s got an itch. Which can be up to three times every godforsaken day.”

 “ _Ay Dios mio_ , really? My hand was cramping up after the third song,” Lance winces as the Character’s voice breaks on a high note in an attempt to go falsetto. He should really stop, anymore cracked notes and Lance just might crack his acoustic across that balding head of his.

 “You get used to it,” she confessed, swinging her greying hair out of her face with a twitch of her head. “Try hanging out on a different side of town if you want to stay away from his pull.”

 “Believe me, I will,” Lance promises, wincing as another flash of pain shoots through his hand during a gliss. He’s so tired of this, his back hurts, his feet are sore, and he just wants to go home and eat something.

 The Character goes on for another minute before he decides he’s finally sung out and stops, breathing heavily. Lance and the other guitarists slouch in relief, his pull finally releasing them enough to let them escape, and escape they do. They hurriedly pack away their instruments or slide them under their arms and to their backs, hanging by the straps.

 Lance quickly makes his way down the street and away from the outdoor café the chain-smoker and his ladylove were seated at when the whole disaster started. The trek isn’t a bad one. The Character had the decency to start his montage in a nice, peaceful part of downtown. There wasn’t too much traffic, foot or vehicle, so Lance let himself relax into his walk home, enjoying the scenery as he went.

 The majority of the businesses surrounding Lance were restaurants or little boutiques lined up in quaint little buildings that shared walls and the same maroon brickwork, distinguishable only by the signs or decor set on their storefronts. Little smart cars and minivans occasionally passed Lance as he walked, their slow moving bodies giving off a slight breeze as they traveled down the cobblestone streets. It was summer, and it wasn’t hot enough to warrant a tank top and booty shorts by any means, but Lance was starting to wish he hadn’t taken his favorite green bomber with him.

 He was just beginning to consider taking the garment off when he felt that tell-tell pull in his gut. Huffing out a sigh of annoyance, Lance pulls his guitar back around and plucks the strings to quickly test the tuning. Lucky thing is, the Character is close by, so Lance is comfortable enough to start plucking out a soft melody. The pull leads him to one of those small private parks found in gated communities and Lance makes his way through the trees, strumming all the while.

 A soft voice eventually joins in, hesitant and so, so lonely. The strength of the Character's despair is enough for Lance to lose his rhythm for a second and scramble to find it again. He can’t see the Character yet, but his voice and words are enough for Lance to paint a picture of a person feeling lost and alone, glad it’s not a child’s voice he’s hearing.

  _“Good morning mister sunshine, you brighten up my day,_

_Come sit beside me in your way.”_

 The cheeriness of the words contradict the emotions Lance can feel radiating from the Character, the vast pool of loneliness making him wish he could either help or leave so it would stop. Lance can finally see the back of the Character’s dark head from where he is standing. He is sitting in the grass playing with the thin, green leaves, eyes cast down. His voice carries well, wracked with melancholy and hopelessness. Lance finds himself stepping forward, but only enough to earn a glimpse of the lost soul’s face.

  _“I see you every morning, outside the restaurants,”_ his quiet voice continues, making Lance catch himself before he steps out from behind the foliage like a novice Musician. Everyone knows you don’t make yourself noticeable when a Character is in the middle of a song. However, Lance is now close enough to start making out his fairly attractive features.

 The Character is fair-skinned with dark, ebony hair reaching the bottom of his neck. It curls at the nape while still being short in the front, with some locks curling softly around his face, framing his eyes.

  _A mullet_ , Lance’s mind supplies after a moment of deliberation. He continues to take in the boy’s high cheekbones and angular jawline, both sharp enough to cut even diamonds.

  _“The music plays so nonchalant.”_ The Character throws a knowing glance in Lance’s general direction, able to hear the soft strumming of his guitar. The gesture would be almost graceful if it weren’t for the despondence behind it.

 Lance is surprised when he realises the Character is around his age. His words and the look in his smoky amethyst eyes betrayed a sense of maturity not fit for a young adult. He is even more surprised by the fact the Character has acknowledged his presence. He’s a Musician and Characters typically never give a shit about them, especially not one having a such common instrument, much less react to them. Musicians have their jobs and Characters don’t need to worry about whether or not they will be there cause they always will. So why was he looking back as if to make sure Lance was really there?

 Lance is broken from his reverie by the sound of other Musicians clapping to the beat, increasing the tempo Lance had set from the beginning of the song. Its taken on a jazzier sound as other guitarists and even a saxophone joins in.

 The Character finds it in himself to stand and begins to walk aimlessly around the park, the lyrics of the song pouring from him in gloomy waves.

  _“Lonely days, lonely nights.”_ He pauses to take a breath and look up from the ground, his eyes glassy from unshed tears. _“Where would I be without my wo-”_ He stops, suddenly choking on the syllable, the song coming to a fumbling halt as the Musicians scramble to stop playing in a cacophony of sound. The moment is gone, and the Character stands there, eyes lost and maudlin.

 The pull is gone, but no one moves to walk away, afraid to shatter the fragility of the moment. It’s rare for a Character stop singing whilst in the middle of a song, and the Musicians are not sure of what to do.

 The Character takes a shaky breath and that seems to wake everyone up enough for them to slowly begin filtering away, no longer needed. Everyone but Lance. He continues to stand there, transfixed by this trembling boy, watching as his throat bobs in an attempt to hold back tears.

 The shine in his eyes is enough propel Lance forward, a hand reaching out towards the dejected boy. Because that is what he is at the moment, a lost and afraid boy. Leaves rustle as Lance stumbles out from behind a bush, and those dark purple eyes are suddenly on him, freezing him in place.

 They both stand there for a vulnerable moment, neither one willing to break the abrupt stillness surrounding them.

 Lance physically swallows back the taut atmosphere and the movement is enough to break the boy out of their shared trance. He takes a small step back, his arms coming up from his sides in a defensive position. Lance sees the fear and hardness in those violet eyes and carefully lowers his outstretched hand.

 “A-are you okay?” he timidly asks, aware of the multiple rules he is currently braking by even _speaking_ to the Character. The boy is shocked by this but hesitantly nods, eyes once again cast down, his posture still tense, though relaxed from its previous position.

  Lance nods back, not believing the boy. He is unsure if he should push a little more, that look in his eyes all too familiar. He wants to help, but he knew that would be over-stepping. Hesitantly, Lance moves to walk away with a small wave when he sees the Character has calmed down enough to almost stop the trembling. He can feel the eyes of the boy on his back as he leaves the park, and he can’t help wanting to see those sad, deep lavender eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic so be gentle, please.  
> "Lonely Days" by the Bee Gees 1970


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This continues on now from Keith's pov. All future chapters will continue to alternate between Keith and Lance's pov's. Telling y'all in advance so no one is lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks bgrievous64 for beta-ing!

 Keith had a hard day. The pressure from his mom and uncle to complete his training and duties finally weighing down on him. He just wanted to calm down and relax, give someone else his position or at least share and lessen the burden. Being a prince is not what all those movies and books crack it up to be, especially being a half-prince like him. He just felt so alone all the time and that crushing disparity was enough for him to crack.   
  
 Keith hates singing. Okay, maybe ‘hate’ is too strong of a word. He doesn’t hate singing, he hates expressing his emotions, his training forcing him to maintain a calm facade at all times. But today, Keith finally had enough. All of the studying, foreign affairs, and combat training had finally taken its toll, and Keith succumbed to the urge to sing. He needed the outlet and the comforting presence of the Musicians was enough to calm him. That is, until he got to that one line in the song. The moment he realized what the word about to pass his lips would be, the air caught in his throat.   
  
 That was just one more thing for Keith to stress about.   
  
 His mother had come to him earlier in the day, asking him to join her in her drawing room after lunch. Curious, since they usually meet in her office, Keith consented. As he opened to doors to walk into his mother’s drawing room, the first thing he noticed was all the women. And there were a lot of them. Everywhere. Sitting on couches, walking around the room, browsing the collection of books on the walls, and they all turned to look at him as he walked through the door.   
  
 Keith froze at the sudden onslaught of attention, and the girls started a round of giggles. The noise broke Keith from his rigid position by the door, and he cast his eyes about the room in search of his mother. Not finding her in the small room, his eyes caught that of a fair-haired woman.   
  
 “Prince Keith,”she called, walking toward him, hand outstretched. “It is very nice to meet you. I am Lady Terra of the Western Region of Marmora.”   
  
 “Yes, pleased to meet you,” Keith takes her hand hesitantly, giving it a slow shake. “Might I ask if you have seen her Majesty? She asked me to meet her here.”   
  
 She smiles at Keith, her teeth perfectly white and straight. “Yes, she was here moments ago to inform us of your search.”   
  
 “My search?” he asks cautiously, weary of her too big smile and fluttery eyelashes.   
  
 “Well, yes,” a small dimple pops in her chin as her smile grows into a full grin. “Your search for a wife. We are all very excit-” Her words faded away as Keith took stock of the situation. All of the women in the room are around his age and considerably attractive. Their clothing suggests high status and all of them are smiling at him in a flirtatious manner, lips painted and hands folded, and all he could focus on was that one word.   
  
  _Wife?_   
  
 Keith’s thoughts came to a stuttering halt as a hand was placed on his arm and Keith forced himself back to the present. Lady- _what was her name? Tammy? Terrance?_ \- is still talking to him with that teasing smile and gives his arm a soft squeeze. Keith may not have any suitors- _well, used to,_ he amends- but he can tell when someone is copping a feel. He takes a small step back, putting space between them, and her arm falls awkwardly to her side, but she continues on with her one-sided conversation as if nothing had happened.   
  
 “-walk around the gardens sometime?” Her voice suddenly comes back to him and Keith scrambles to answer, unsure of the question.   
  
 “Wha-uh, sure. Yeah, that’ll be great,” Keith says, plastering on a smile that feels fake even to him. _Wife!_ “If you’ll please excuse me for a moment.” He walks out of the room as fast as possible without making a spectacle of himself.   
  
_  Wife, huh? We'll see how long this lasts. _   
  
 He finds his mother a few minutes later, questions her, and receives a lecture about an ‘heir’ and ‘the future of Marmora’, leading Keith to where he is now. In a park, staring down the back of a blue-eyed Musician as he walked away.   
  
 It was surprising enough for a Musician to step into the foreground, much less talk to a Character. And a prince at that. But this tanned, willowy Musician did so, his stutter the only sign of fear of possible repercussions. Keith wondered what made him go against the grain. Following the rules is-well, the rule. You don’t just walk around them whenever you want to. But he did so, easily. His self-confidence was enough for him to step out of his domain and into Keith’s to speak to him when he was clearly distressed.   
  
  _Distressed_ , Keith scoffs. _I’m a Prince, The Prince of Marmora. The country that impossibly gained its independence from the Galran Empire. I’m stronger than this._   
  
 With that in mind, Keith began his trek back to the castle, intent on avoiding those women, including his mother, when a glint caught his eye.   
  
 On the ground, not far from where the blue-eyed Musician had stepped out, was a small, triangular piece of hard plastic. It’s a rich blue color and rounded at the points, the word ‘thin’ printed on one side in white. Keith realizes it’s the guitar pick the Musician was using when he was playing during Keith’s song. It’s clearly well used, the edges rough from the strings of the guitar and the wording slightly worn away. Keith wonders how long the Musician has used this particular tool and if he would come back searching for it.   
  
 Keith tells himself to leave it there, he has no business keeping the tools of a Musician. He runs his fingers over the rough edges one last time before he pockets it and walks out of the garden.   


* * *

 Okay, so avoiding the women was easy, his mother? Not so much. It didn’t help that she immediately found him after he came through one of the back entrances into the castle. In hindsight, Keith realized he probably shouldn’t have used the one he frequented often for late-night escapades when he was younger.   
  
 As soon as he walked through the door, he was greeted with her scowling, albeit beautiful, face. Keith withered under her towering scrutiny, her superior height being one of the permanent reminders he faced knowing he wasn’t fully Marmoran. Keith forced his shoulders back in an attempt to look taller and more princely to placate her. From the scowl still adorning her pretty features, it did no such thing.   
  
 The Queen remained silent, intent on waiting for Keith to break it. Unsure on what to say, he opened his mouth to apologize for his absence, but before a single word could pass his lips, his mother raises a hand to silence him.   
  
 “I don’t want to hear it,” she says, her eloquent voice stern. “Where you went after you rudely left your admirers is none of my concern, at the moment,” she states with a pointed glare. “The diplomats from the Kingdom of Altea and the Galran Empire will arrive in a few minutes and we must greet them.” She turns and walks down the hallway towards the grand foyer, heels clicking against the stone flooring as she goes, Keith following.   
  
 “They will both be from the royal families, so I suggest you be on your best behavior and treat them as guests. They will be staying in the castle for a while since we have trade matters to discuss with both countries and the Galran Empire seems ready to fully accept our independence.”   
  
 Keith sags in relief at that, knowing recognition of being an independent country from the Galra had been a never-ending battle since before he was born. The war against the Galran Empire had been a long and hard one, with his mother leading the charge the whole way. The Queen was Commander-in-Chief of the resistance organization, the Blade of Marmora, and was voted into her royal position after she gained the support of the Kingdom of Altea and won the war. While still being a monarchy, Her Majesty was intent on the government being constitutional so the people who had fought so hard would still have their freedom after the war through voting and law-making.   
  
 They made it to the grand foyer as the the typical black cars transporting the diplomats were making their way up the gravel drive. Keith composed himself, intent on making a good first impression, and pushed his thoughts about that afternoon, and the blue-eyed Musician, away from his mind.   
  
 The first car to pull up was adorned with Altea’s traditional blue and white flags attached at each corner and the door opened before the driver could even step out of the vehicle. A tall, dark-skinned woman hopped out just as the driver came around to open her door; her long, white hair a thick curtain behind her. She quickly apologised to the driver and thanked him, her eagerness forcing her up the steps to the castle in graceful strides.   
  
 The Queen smiled gently, eyes wrinkling at the corners with amusement, and walked out to greet the young woman, Keith a few steps behind her.   
  
 “Princess Allura! A pleasure to see you again,” Her Majesty’s smile widens as the Princess moves in for a hug after a quick curtsy, her embrace a strong and welcome one.   
  
 “You too, Your Majesty,” Allura answers, pulling back with a large grin splitting her face, her blue eyes twinkling. “It’s been entirely too long and I couldn’t wait to get here to see you again.”   
  
 The women continue chatting and Keith looks down the staircase to the other car that has pulled up. The diplomat inside is content on taking his time as he waits for the driver to open the door and walks up the stairs at a leisurely pace. He is about average height for one of his lineage, still taller than Keith, with the broad shoulders and balance of a swordsman. His hair is white as well, but that is were the similarities between the diplomats end.   
  
 Unlike Allura, whose hair falls in thick waves past her hips, the Galran diplomat’s is straight and the ends meet the middle of his back. That, and the smile so clearly plastered on his face is nothing like the kind, radiant one Allura gave when she greeted them. His smile is polite but bored, and contains a subtle wickedness around the edges that is just dark enough to cause Keith to shiver.   
  
 The motion catches the man’s attention and his smile grows into something more genuine, taking pleasure in Keith’s discomfort. He makes it to the top step and bypasses the Queen, ignoring the matriarch and going straight for Keith. He takes Keith’s hand in his and bows low over it, piercing yellow eyes never leaving his purple ones.   
  
 “Prince Lotor of the Galran Empire, at your service,” his deep voice traveling up to Keith, dancing through his ears like a daunting lullaby. Prince Lotor presses a swift kiss to his knuckles and Keith has to restrain himself from snatching his hand away.   
  
 The Queen notices the display and turns to Keith’s aid. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness, I’m sure.” There is a warning hidden in her tone as she was not oblivious to the Prince’s purposeful disregard of her.   
  
 Lotor straightens from his bent posture, not turning towards the Queen, but still maintaining eye contact with Keith. “I must say the same to you, Your Majesty,” there is a subtle bite in his tone as he says her title, but Keith picks up on it. He quickly finds himself becoming annoyed by Prince Lotor’s blatant disregard of his mother and removes his hand from the other’s grasp. The Galra lets him, but not before squeezing Keith’s fingers possessively as he goes.   
  
 Once Keith has stepped away from the strange Prince does he finally acknowledge woman of the highest rank in the room. He turns to her and begins a light conversation with the Queen regarding the status of her country, all traces of contempt gone. Keith tries to subtly wipe the feeling of the Prince’s kiss from the back of his hand, but Allura catches the movement and sends a small, sympathetic smile his way. She walks over to Keith and away from the other royals, thick hair flowing behind her like cloud.   
  
 “Don’t worry,” she whispers conspiratorially, “His bark is worse than his bite. He is unusually flirtatious for a man whose father has the personality of a rock.” Keith finds himself smiling as Allura giggles, her lilting voice a comfort compared to Lotor’s deep, twisted one.   
  
 “An angry, power-hungry rock,” Keith adds, and the Princess’ giggles increase, Keith joining her in her amusement with soft chuckles. They exchange pleasantries and small talk and Keith finds he likes the Altean Princess, his earlier anxiety fading away. He hopes they could be good friends in the future. Her excitement is contagious though she maintains composed throughout their conversation. They discuss everything going on in Altea and the support they gave the Blade back during the war. Keith expresses his gratitude in that matter even if he wasn’t born until after.   
  
 “I was only an infant,” Allura supplies, “so I don’t remember really anything from the war itself but I do remember the stories my father would tell about your mother and how she single-handedly forced Emperor Zarkon to surrender.”    
  
 “I see your father still exaggerates my supposed greatness,” the Queen interjects, a fond smile on her face. “It was hardly single-handed. I wouldn’t have been able to survive the war without your father’s assistance.” She begins to walk inside and the others follow her through the grand foyer and up to her office. Keith walks beside his mother, Allura on her other side. Lotor just follows, quiet for the moment.   
  
 “Father rather enjoys ‘embellishing’ his stories,” Allura confessed. “Though, he always seemed fond when he spoke of you~.” Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, however his mother took this information with the grace of a woman of her status, tossing the Princess an amused smile while opening the door to her office. He knew the Queen of Altea passed on during the war, but he would not have suspected her daughter to be looking for her father a new wife.   
  
  _Wife. There’s that word again,_ Keith thinks, trying to quell the rising discomfort.   
  
 “While I am flattered by that observation, I would rather focus on other means of uniting our countries,” the Queen replied, taking a seat behind her large oak desk, the other three sitting in plush chairs positioned before her. “Now, let’s discuss exactly how we may do so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know, Keith, his mom, and Lotor are not Galra aliens. Everyone in this fic is human. The only characteristic I'm going to keep is the Galra's (and by default, the Marmoran's) greater height. Like I said in the chapter, Marmora was once part of the Galran Empire before they gained independence and became their own country. Sorry if this causes any confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAACCCKK!

 Lance gently strums his guitar with his fingers, thoughts of the purple-eyed Character running through his mind as he picks out a soft melody on the rough strings. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to get him off his mind. The situation was just so strange, he wasn’t sure what to do.

 He and his friends are sitting in and around a beat-up, sliding door van in Hunk’s yard, discussing the next set piece for a gig they had coming up in a month. Something big, but Lance couldn’t be sure as to what it was, his mind otherwise preoccupied. He lounges against the only tree, the bark digging into his back but he doesn’t pay it any mind, listening to the quiet conversation his friends are having but not really absorbing the words.  
 

 “Should we play some fancier stuff?” Hunk asks from his cross-legged position across from Lance, tapping out a beat on his pant leg. “We mostly play modern stuff so should we change to something old school?”

 “What, like classical?” Pidge supplies, tinkering with the mixer on her keyboard, sitting across from the open door of the van. “I know some Bach and Chopin but they’re all solo pieces.”

 “No,” Shiro counters, going through a box of sheet music from inside the van, white forelock gently swinging as he moves. “It’s a good idea but just because it’s a fancy gig doesn’t mean we can’t play fresh music.”

 “So should we do a mixture then?” Hunk suggests. “Old and ne-”

 “Hey, Shiro? You got an extra pick?” Lance asks, interrupting their discussion.

 “Sure, one sec,” Shiro disappears into the depths of the van where rummaging and falling objects can be heard.

 “What happened to yours? I never thought you would finally get rid of that one,” Pidge inquires, hardly glancing up from her keyboard. She tests out a few keys and scowls when they don’t play.

 “I know, seems all you’ve ever had was that beat-up blue one,” adds Shiro, finally emerging from the shadows of the van, fresh pick in hand.

 “He probably lost it when he was ogling that Character from yesterday,” Hunks jokes. His laughter is cut short with a hurt expression when Lance uses his long legs to kick him from the other side of the circle. Pidge huffs out a laugh at their antics and Shiro gives Lance an exasperated look.

 “Again, Lance?” Shiro asks, incredulous. He tosses the piece of plastic to Lance, who barely manages to catch it. “Don’t get caught or-”

 “I know, I know. I’ll get reported to the authorities,” Lance interrupts. “And I wasn’t ‘ogling’ him. I was trying to help him.”

 “Why would you do that?” Pidge questions, fumbling with the circuit board, keyboard now fully disassembled.

 “He stopped singing in the middle of his song,” Lance remarks, softly strumming out the familiar, lonely melody. Everything stops. Lance looks up from his plucking to see all his friends eyes fixed on him. Hunk had quieted his tapping, his hand now still, mouth agape. Pidge dropped her screwdriver, broken keyboard forgotten for the moment.  
Shiro is the first one to regain his composure, leaning over to pick up the sheet music that scattered from when it fell from his suddenly lax hand.

 “What do you mean?”

 Lance looks up at him, unbelieving, “Exactly what I said, he stopped singing in the middle of his song. I thought maybe he choked on his own spit, or something-”

 “More like ‘or something’,” Pidge interrupts. “Characters don’t just randomly stop singing. It’s against their nature!”

 “Pidge’s right,” Hunk supplies, finally broken from his shock. “It’s next to impossible for them to quit singing once they’ve started. They have to at least finish the song.”

 “Well, this one didn’t,” Lance says, nonchalant. “He stopped singing, and he looked so lost-”

 “Lost? And that was why you stepped into the foreground?” Hunk asks, incredulous.

 Silence falls over the group once again.

 “You stepped,” Shiro glares at Lance, prosthetic hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “into the foreground?”

 “It was only for a second!” Lance explains, sitting up from his relaxed position. Pidge scoffs and goes back to her keyboard. Shiro sits just inside the van door, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

 “You should have heard him,” Lance says, eyes cast down, playing with the soft grass. “The words and the music were lively, but the way he sang,” Lance pauses, the memory of those scared, glassy rushing to the forefront of his mind. “He was so alone. I could feel how lonely he was and I-”He looks up at Shiro, imploring. “I just wanted to help.”

 Everyone’s expressions soften and they look away, embarrassed for having questioned Lance like the had. They all knew Lance got into trouble more often than not, usually because he was showing off for some hottie, but they often forget how he could be sympathetic to a fault. With growing up in a such a huge family, Lance had always cared for someone and had someone caring for him. Since moving out from his family’s place, Lance didn’t really have that anymore. The group always tried to avoid going near animal shelters and orphanages because they’d be damned if Lance didn’t try to adopt every single one of those kids or animals. Usually, they would just pass it off as Lance being overly caring, but seeing the way he was reacting to a grown, unattainable person, they realized it was so much more than that.

 “We need to get you a dog,” Hunks says, breaking the silence.

 Lance huffs a laugh. “Thanks, man,” he says, bumping the big guy’s leg with his lanky one. “But I’m already one of the best lead guitarists in all of Marmora and I have Voltron depending on me,” He jokes, waving his hand to Hunk’s drum set inside the van, the band’s logo displayed on the kick drum. “What do I need a dog for when I have that to cheer me up?” Lance crosses his arms behind his head, forcefully projecting ease and confidence. The band just continues to look at him with varying degrees of concern and pity pinching their faces. Lance see this and uncomfortably lowers his arms.

 “I think I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you guys later,” he says, standing up, brushing the grass off his pants, and thanks Shiro for the pick. “Call me when you guys wanna practice for the gig.”

 The three friends watch as Lance walks away, shoulders slumped.

 “We really need to get him a dog,” Hunk tells them. Both Shiro and Pidge nod in agreement.

* * *

 Scuffing the toe of his shoe in the dirt as he walks, Lance makes his way down the street, guitar gently bouncing against his back. He fingers the rocking strap across his chest, slowly tracing the grain of the threads weaved together, trying to force his thoughts away from- well, him. Lance knew he wasn’t doing himself any good by thinking about him, if his lack of focus during Voltron’s meeting was anything to go by. He just knew Shiro was going to give him a lecture about staying in the background next time he saw him, and nothing Lance could say would make Shiro stop because, _Everyone’s safety matters, Lance. At least_ try _not to put yourself in danger._

 It’s not Lance’s fault, he just has bad luck whenever it comes to seeing someone hurt. Or puppies. Especially puppies.

_Wait, how did I get from him to puppies? Well, I guess because they’re both cute?_

 Lance stops in his tracks and groans into his hands, frustrated that his thoughts keep circling back to the Character. He’s considering jumping off the nearest building when he feels that familiar pull in his gut. He groans all the harder but grudgingly pulls his guitar around and begins idly playing. He walks in the general direction his body is telling him and grimaces at the sound the strings make as they are struck by his new pick. He can tell it’s a different material from his usually pick just by the sounds emitting from his guitar. _Man, Shiro must have given me a pick meant for his electric. My sound’s gonna be all outta wack._ He sends a silent apology to the Character singing, cause this song is just not gonna sound right.

 As Lance gets close enough to the Character, he can tell the song already doesn’t sound normal. There are no lyrics coming from the singer, just random ahs, and ohs, emanating from their general direction. Lance’s brow furrows with confusion but slowly continues his approach, strumming all the while.

 Eventually, there’s a brake in the trees and Lance freezes in his tracks. It’s him. The same Character that he played for yesterday. Only this time, he doesn’t seem as lonely, just determined and a little wary as his eyes rake across the trees surrounding him. As the Character continues his soft song, Lance notices he is the only Musician playing for him, and that this is the exact same garden where he first played for him.

 Lance is so struck be the strangeness of the situation, he doesn’t even notice when the man stops. It’s not until he hears the rustling of leaves that he realizes the Character has stepped into the Background right in front of Lance.

  _Holy shit_ , his mind screams at him. The Character raises his eyebrow, and Lance has a moment to wonder if he actually said that out loud before the Character steps closer and thrusts out his hand.

 Lance flinches away, but quickly recovers when he notices the Character hasn’t come to smack him upside the head for yesterday. It wouldn’t have been the first time he saw a Character harassing a Musician. Most of the time it’s over stupid crap and the Musician just gets off with a rough scolding but sometimes, if whatever it is they did is bad enough, Lance has seen them get their hands crushed under the boot of a Marmoran officer. It’s hard enough being forced to play an instrument because a stranger wanted to sing, but not being able to and just getting stuck with that feeling in your gut until the Character stops singing, it’s torture. At least playing helps alleviate the ache a bit. Without being able to play and having that constant pain until it eventually stops… Lance has seen a few Musicians on the street, stumbling around with their shattered hands cradled to their chest and their eyes glazed over from the damage the pain causes them.

 The Character draws his arm away from Lance and takes a step back, putting more space between them. He eyes Lance cautiously, as if afraid Lance would bolt like a startled deer at his next twitch. He fiddles with something in his hand and looks around, suddenly unsure of himself. He does this for a while and when he realizes that Lance isn’t going to bound away at his next blink, he takes a deep breath and meets Lance’s eyes again.

 “Hi,” he says awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck when Lance doesn’t answer. He shuffles his feet, suddenly interested in the flowers he squashed in his haste to get to Lance, dark hair covering his face.

 Lance for the first time notices that the Character is shorter than him. Not by much, but just enough to be noticeable. Lance has the bizarre thought that if he leaned forward just enough, he could boop his nose right between the Character’s thick eyebrows. He forces these thoughts away with a mental shake and carefully examines the man in front of him. He’s certainly a bit more muscular than Lance, their shoulders equaling the same width, despite the height difference. He also has a very stiff and proper posture, his spine so perfectly straight, Lance decides he might be some kind of soldier for Marmora’s army.

 “You dropped this last time I saw you,” he suddenly says, holding out Lance’s blue pick again.

 This stops Lance’s gawking and he blinks down to the piece of plastic in his hand, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. Lance is not only shocked to see this Character again, but see him step into the background and talk to Lance. A Musician. He isn’t sure what to do, this has never happened before and he’s sure that if it has, the Musician walked away with a crippled hand.

 The dark-haired male looks at Lance expectantly. “Well are you going to take it or do I get to keep it?” he says, still holding out the pick. Lance startles and hesitantly reaches for the pick, taking it from the Character’s hand without touching his skin.

 “I didn’t get to thank you for yesterday,” the Character tells Lance, stuffing his now empty hands in his dress pants pockets. “You dropped your pick, too, and I didn’t know how to return it to you so I thought if I sung, you would come and I could…”

 “Could what?” Lance asks, suddenly finding his voice. He doesn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, but his big mouth sure does. He swallows at his own question, but stands his ground. This dude may be a Character but Lance is one of the best damn lead guitarists in Marmora, dammit. Nothing’s gonna scare him. Hopefully.

 “Um...talk to you, I guess,” the guy supplies, scratching at the back of his neck in what Lance assumes is a nervous habit. “I was surprised when you stepped into the foreground like some kind of idiot-” Lance raises an eyebrow at this, but the Character doesn’t see it, amethyst eyes on his shuffling feet, “-and I was…”

 The Character seems to lose his steam after this and drops his arm back by his side. He looks around them again before his gaze finally rests on Lance. He studies Lance’s face for a moment before he looks down at his guitar.

 “Where’d you learn?” he asks, lazily pointing at the instrument before shoving his hand in his pocket again, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

 Lance stares at the Character in confusion. “At school,” he answers, “like all the other Musicians.” Purple eyes meet blue ones before wincing, as if embarrassed by Lance’s answer.

 “Right,” he says. “I knew that.” He looks around at the trees again and for the first time, Lance realizes it isn’t out of discomfort. He’s checking to make sure there is no one else around. This immediately causes Lance to tense up, fighting against the urge to look around, for fear of actually seeing something and getting caught _talking_. With a _Character_. In the _Background_.

 Now Lance is really scared, and takes a step away from the Character, attempting to put more space between them. The Character sees this and steps towards Lance, arm extended as if to stop Lance’s retreat.

 “Wait!” he calls. “Wait, just wait a second.” Lance reluctantly stops, unsure of what’s worse, getting caught talking with a Character or running from a Character. He pins Lance with those amethyst eyes and carefully takes a step closer. “I just-” he stops, looks down as if debating something, takes a deep breath, and meets Lance’s gaze again. “I just want to know your name.”

 Lance blinks. And blinks again, not sure if he heard correctly. _Know my name?_ He stares back at the Character and can see how determined he is to hear his name written across his face. _But, why?_

 “Well,” the Character answers, and Lance has a moment to wonder if he spoke his thoughts out loud again, “calling you ‘the blue-eyed Musician’ in my head has been getting kinda annoying, lately and-well, I would like to know.”

 Lance just continues to stare and the Character awkwardly shuffles his feet again.

 “Mine’s Keith, if that makes you feel any better,” he supplies, a shaky smile making its way across his face. He quickly gives up on it when Lance doesn’t reciprocate and looks down at his feet again. For a moment, just a moment, Lance sees that same loneliness he saw when he first played for the Character, and it makes him do something incredibly stupid.

 “Lance.”

 The Character’s head snaps up, meeting the Musicians gaze with his own surprised one.

 “What?” he asks, his voice soft with shock.

 “Lance,” the Musician repeats. “The name’s Lance.”

 “Oh,” the Charact- _Keith_ says. His gaze shifts between Lance’s eyes, studying them, before a soft smile forms on his face. “Well, nice to meet you, Lance,” he replies, the syllable rolling off his tongue in a wave of velvet.

 Lance finds a smile forming on his face, considers fighting the urge, then decides against it. He lets it take over, and his stomach flips when Keith glances at his mouth for a split second.

 “Nice to meet you, too, Keith,” he says, face pinkening at the slight crack in his voice when he says the Character’s name. Keith’s smile grows and he ducks his head, his own pink cheeks hidden by his bangs.

  _Well,_ Lance muses, _I’ve gotten this far, might as well dive in._

 He takes a deep breath and asks the question that started this whole thing, “Why did you stop in the middle of your song, yesterday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these two just dweebin it up! Ugh, I can't even. Sorry for the bit if langst there but what is a voltron fic without a little langst. Honestly, I didn't realize how similar this story is to Romeo and Juliet until I was typing up the end of this chapter...don't worry the endings will be different.
> 
>  
> 
> ...Maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell, it's been months?! Let me tell ya, time flies when you are stressed out and going to college. So sorry for taking so long on this chapter, I had been focusing on major plot points and completely forgotten about this filler chapter. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

 Breakfast is a quiet affair in the castle. Always has been since Keith’s mother usually did her paperwork at this time, her papers taking up her entire half of the table. Keith usually kept quiet, knowing that if he attempted some form of conversation it would most likely be ignored. He would usually read some documents his mother decided he could handle as a light princely duty, but today his documents stayed on the table instead of in his hand. He tried to focus on it, honestly, but after rereading the first paragraph for the fifth time, he gave up and let the pervading thoughts of the blue-eyed musician drift him away. 

 The Musician-  _ Lance- _ had been surprisingly forthcoming with the conversation and even made Keith laugh a few times. He had been a little fidgety when Keith first walked up to him and getting him to talk after his initial question was like pulling teeth, but once he calmed down a bit and stopped staring at the circlet on Keith’s head, he talked like Keith was a friend he hadn’t seen in years. The speed and quantity at which this guy could talk without taking a breath would put the greatest public speakers to shame. He talked about who he was, where he was from, and all about the band he is a part of. 

 “Band?” Lance glanced up from tuning his guitar, confusion scrunching his face and glanced up at Keith’s circlet  _ again _ before a more understanding look settled on his features.

 “Yeah,” he said, looking back down at his guitar to avoid Keith’s gaze but didn’t continue to tune it. “There’s four of us. Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, and me. We call ourselves  _ The Paladins of Voltron _ . Kind of a strange name, I know, but Shiro mentioned an old fairy tale he heard back when he was stationed in Altea and Pidge demanded we name our band after it.”

 “I’ve heard the story,” Keith said, hoping Lance would meet his eyes again. “My mother would tell me about it and other countries’ fairy-tales when I was younger.” Lance nodded but didn’t say anything in reply, eyes still downcast.

 The two sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what to say or how to pick the conversation back up. Keith started to rip up the grass in front of his crossed legs, twirling a few strands between his fingers. He eventually chanced a quick look to his silent companion, only to see him dart his eyes away in a flash of blue, caught.

 “What paladin would you be?” Keith blurted. He hurriedly looked back at his hands, only to glance back up again, suddenly intent on knowing the answer. The brown-haired man looked back at him, eyes wide, and his mouth slightly open. “You don’t have to answer that,” Keith hurriedly said, letting the grass fall from his hands. He brushed them off and moved to stand up and walk back home. It was getting pretty late, the sun was beginning to set, and he started to walk away when he felt a hand grab onto the back of his pant leg. He looked down to see Lance peering up at him shyly, but intently.

 “Blue,” he said, hesitant confidence ringing in his voice. “I would be the Blue Paladin.” Keith stared at him, feeling his mouth curl into a slow, crooked smile.

 “How do you figure that?” he asked, turning to the Musician fully. He stood up slowly, sliding his guitar behind him and took a half-step towards the prince.

 “I just know,” he said, his expression firm but the skin around his mouth tightened, betraying his humor.

 “Oh, really?”

 “Yeah, really,” they both looked at each other, watching their expressions, probably standing too close for what would be considered appropriate when in company.

 Keith glanced away from Lance’s intense and calculating gaze before looking back at him with the same intensity and asking, “What about me?”

 Lance blinked. “What about you?”

 Keith huffed a laugh, “What paladin do you think I would be?”

 “Oh,” Lance said, before rocking back on his heels and giving Keith a full body sweep, his eyes making sure to carefully take in everything he was seeing. Keith’s heart thudded in his chest, fully aware of what Lance was really doing. When he finally reached Keith's face, a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he meets Keith’s gaze and said, “Red.”

 Keith is brought back to the present when his mother sets her coffee mug down with a determined  _ tap _ . Keith flinched at the sound and cringed when he met his mother’s intuitive gaze. She never liked it when he let his mind drift away from the present.

 “So, have you decided on which girl to pick?” Krolia asked, peering over the rim of her reading glasses. When Keith didn’t answer right away she shooed him off to the drawing room so ‘he could get on with it and decide already.’ Keith makes sure his chair scrapes across the floor in retaliation and he leaves the room with a less than princely attitude to the click of his boots. 

 He makes it to the doors of the drawing room and hesitates. He stares at the dark wood for a moment, thinking of Lance and how he would much rather have the confident boy behind those doors rather than the sea of women. 

 He takes a moment to take a deep breath and remove all thoughts of the smiling Musician from his head before his raises a hand and pushes the door open. Just like the first day, all eyes turn to him paired with a too sweet smile. 

 Keith is about to turn tail and bolt but he sees a flash of silver hair and notices Princess Allura near one of the windows, gazing out at the garden. Confused and more than a little happy to see a familiar face, Keith walks up to greet her.

 “Hi,” he says uneasily but at little pleased.

 “Hello,” she smiles gently back at him. When he doesn’t say anything, she turns to face him fully with a perfect eyebrow raised and an inquiring tilt of her chin. “Something wrong, Your Highness?”

 Realizing he may have been staring, Keith quickly shakes his head. 

 "No, just a bit surprised to see you here,” he answers.

 “Is this not the room where your intendeds meet so they may visit with you?” Allura asks, eyes twinkling with amusement.

 “Well, yes,” Keith affirms, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why would you want to hang out with them though? If I didn’t have my mother breathing down my neck to get a wife, I would be in a training room halfway across the castle, right now.”

 Allura laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and Keith joins her in amusement. Neither noticed their increasing proximity nor the looks they were getting from the crowded room.

 “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind working on my hand-to-hand,” the princess said. “Rumor has it, you’re rather good at it.”

 Keith shrugs, “I’ve got a lot of free time and I’m not one for small talk and finger sandwiches.” He gestures towards the double doors, “Maybe we can test each others’ skills?”

 Allura consents and they leave the room, oblivious to the various sullen looks and death glares aimed at their backs. Well, Allura’s.

* * *

 “So I have a question,” Allura asks, adjusting her athletic shorts and giving Keith a hand up from where she had just slammed him to the ground. Keith hesitantly accepts the help, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, and nods to let her know he is listening.

 “Why do you avoid them?” the princess asks, giving him a moment to take up his fighting stance before throwing a punch at his face. Keith dodges and counters with a right hook which she blocks with her arm.

 “Avoid who?” He leaps away from her next kick, narrowly avoiding a bruised rib. He sees an opening and attempts to land another punch, but she spins away. 

 “The girls attempting to win your heart,” she answers throwing a combination at him.

 Keith snorts, too focused on dodging her combo to fully answer. She gives him a confused look that quickly disappears when he puts more effort into his next punch.

 “They’re not after my heart,” he explains. “They're after my mother’s crown.” He dodges a right hook. “Besides, what’s the point in choosing one when Mother will overthrow my position and marry me to her choice. There’s no chance of love for me anyway.”

 “Don’t say that,” Allura says dropping from her defensive stance to adjust her ponytail. Keith does the same and grabs a water bottle. “You’ll find love, and once you do, you’ll want to hold onto it. Trust me.”

 “So you’ve been in love?” Keith asks taking a sip. 

 Allura doesn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to take a drink from her water bottle. She sits down next to Keith and takes a steadying breath. Keith waits patiently, strangely afraid to speak lest he scares her away.

 “His name was Takashi,” she says. “He was my personal guard before he was promoted to Lieutenant General of my father’s Air Force after galra who were against the treaty started being difficult.” Allura pauses, fiddling with the cap of her water bottle. “It was our wedding day and he snuck into my room through the window just to see me. Of course, my attendants were angry because I was in my dress and he was seeing me before the ceremony, nevermind he had just climbed four stories up to my window. He was always doing crazy stuff like that. Taught me how to fight actually.” 

 She laughs at the memory and Keith smiles softly, watching as her eyes became glossy and a fond smile formed on her face. But just as quickly as it showed up, the smile was gone.

 “An alert was sent out that the rebelling galra were attempting to attack the castle. So Takashi left to go help fight, against both mine and my father’s wishes.” Full on tears were now streaming down her face, grief marring her pretty features.

 Keith remembered that day well, he had been crowned not a full week before he heard about the attack was asked to help his mother delegate on whether or not they should send aid. The battle was over before their aircrafts could even make it off the ground. 

 “His aircraft was shot down not fifteen minutes after he left my room.” She swallows and takes a deep breath to compose herself. “It’s been over a year since what happened, and I still can’t go a single day without think of him.”

 Both are silent after her story, both thinking about the what ifs and the possible outcomes of them.

 “I’m sorry, Allura,” Keith says, eyes downcast at the thought that Allura’s fiance could have become her husband if he and Krolia had made the decision sooner. 

 “Me too,” Allura says, wiping her cheeks and smiling softly at Keith, unaware of his inner turmoil.

 “Well, enough reminiscing,” Allura says, standing up and adjusting the tape on her hands. “I want you to teach me that combination from earlier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention minor Kallura and Shallura? Oops. Btw, I'm removing the author's note I posted so the the number of chapters will still be 4 instead of 5.


End file.
